Hector studied him. Tension still radiated from him. Bruises were under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept, and there were sores chewed in his bottom lip. “Well, get rid of her. I’m here on official business.”
“The room isn’t clean. Besides, I’m here to cheer up my bestie. Bestie—isn’t that what people call their best friend forever? I’ve heard Noelle Tremain use the term with little Ava.”
“We’ve had this conversation before. That’s what teenage girls call them,” Dallas muttered.
Devyn smiled his most charming smile. “As our bromance will last the ages, that sounds pretty perfect to me.”
Hector glanced around. Usually, the place was a disaster area, with clothes strewn about, empty beer bottles everywhere, and food wrappers stuffed between the couch cushions. Now there were three stacks of folded laundry in a basket. There wasn’t a bottle in sight, and a soft swathe of material was draped over the arm of the couch.
“Ma’am,” Hector said. “There’s something you can do for me.”
Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, giving him a clear view of her pretty face—and the fear that filled her brown eyes when she looked him over. A common occurrence in his presence. Noelle was one of the only females to regard him unflinchingly from day one.
“Y—yes?” she stuttered.
“Get dressed and leave.”
Relief replaced her fear. “Certainly.”
Amid Devyn’s protests, she tugged a black and white dress over her head. As the material fell into place, it conformed to her curves. She slid her feet into too-high heels, and they clicked and clacked as she hurried out of the apartment.
“Now, then.” Hector pressed a few buttons on his reader, sending the contents to both Dallas and Devyn’s systems, and fell into the chair across from them. He told them what he’d learned about Bobby Marks’s wife, the explosive dinner with the mother, and they decided to hunt Brenda Marks down after checking in at the AIR office in an hour.
Every reply from Dallas was harder and harsher than necessary.
“So … you want to tell me what’s wrong with you?” he asked.
“No,” Dallas replied tightly.
“He had a vision,” Devyn said.
“Hey!” Dallas frowned at him. “When I tell you something’s a secret, and you tell me that secret is locked in the vault, you aren’t supposed to blab about it.”
Devyn blew him a kiss. “How was I supposed to know Hector would have the key to my vault?”
“Yeah?” Dallas grumbled. “And what’s the key?”
“Your happiness. God knows, nothing I’ve done has helped your pissy mood. So maybe, just maybe, talking about it with the other man involved will.”
Motions jerky, Dallas grabbed one of the coffees and drank deeply. “Fine, whatever, but you tell him. I can’t discuss it without vomiting blood.”
Dread poured through Hector’s veins. What the hell was going on?
“Dallas had an unchangeable vision,” Devyn said, meeting Hector’s gaze with steady determination. “He saw himself in bed with Noelle.”
“What!” Hector exploded, on his feet, a pyre-gun palmed and aimed before he realized he’d moved. He knew all about Dallas’s visions. Knew they were never wrong. Knew that predicting the future was one of his many half-alien abilities. Damn that ability!
A narrowed-eyed Devyn said, “Sit down. Now,” in a cold and deadly voice.
Deadly, but at the moment Hector was a predator without any type of moral compass. No one was more lethal.
“Don’t make me ask twice.”
As if he’d asked the first time. The Targon would kill to protect his “bestie.” And as he could control energy molecules with his mind, manipulating human bodies as if they were nothing more than puppets, he attempted to lower Hector’s arm.
Hector felt mental fingers clamping around his wrist, pushing, and resisted until both men realized the depths of his strength. He even let his skin atomize just enough to glow above the edge of his gloves and heat. “That’s right. You can’t force me to do anything I don’t want to do.”
Devyn hissed, as if he’d felt the heat of Hector’s skin even through the mental connection.
When Hector sat and sheathed his weapon, he did it under his own steam. He only had trouble forcing his arms to cool. Dallas. Noelle. In bed. Together.
He’d known it was a possibility, had even considered them a perfect match a few minutes ago, but this … fuck no!
Red glittered over his line of vision, and he once again curled his finger around his gun.
“—listening to me?” Devyn asked, exasperated.
“Fuck!” he snarled, throwing out the curse like a weapon. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
“Told you he’d react that way,” Dallas said, falling back against the couch and staring up at the ceiling.
“Well, he should have kept listening to me and we could have avoided the tantrum,” Devyn said after tsking under his tongue. “Dallas also had a vision of you sleeping with her, Hector. And I gotta tell you, that shocked the piss right out of me. I thought you were g*y.”
“Fu—wait. What?” The red dissipated with a single blink.
“Oh, now I have your attention.”
Hector. Noelle. In bed. Together. Again? “Did I have sex with her?” he asked Dallas in a rush. “Did I harm her?”
Dallas gulped. “You woke up next to her, and both of you were naked. No, she wasn’t harmed.”
Shock blasted him, realization quick on its heels. In the vision, Hector had slept with her, next to her and naked, and he hadn’t hurt her. A miracle. His heart drummed against his chest with stinging precision.
He could have her, all of her. Would have her. Dallas was never wrong. Praise that ability!
“The problem is,” Devyn went on. “Only one of the visions will come true.”
“That’s not a problem. I want her. She’s mine.” Words he’d never thought to utter, but now that he had, he meant them. She. Was. His. If he could have her without hurting her, he would have her. Period. No one would be able to stop him. Not even Noelle.
Shit. He had some serious backtracking to do with her. Probably some groveling, too. She’d demand an apology for his lack of contact. He’d give it—and anything else she wanted.
“Lost you again.” Devyn sighed. “Let me finish before you start unzipping your mental pants, all right? If one vision comes true, Dallas will be saved. If the other vision comes true, Dallas will be ruined. I don’t want my Dallas ruined,” the Targon ended with toxic force.